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by chimaekjin (symmetrophobic)



Series: spy!au [5]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Gen, OT9 - Freeform, Spy!AU, cute campy stuff, i know the summary sounds all srs bsns but it’s a lie, not really gen but i tried, now with guns!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-23 11:52:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17682938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/chimaekjin
Summary: It's strange enough getting used to 9 instead of 3, Chan thinks, without one disappearing from the equation. Changbin and Jisung had been his crutches, his lifelines, and losing even one of them was like losing a limb. skz spy!au





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**Author's Note:**

> so as i was plotting out the got7 (it's really jypn at this point smh) jbgyeom origins fic i figured i should properly introduce skz into this universe rather than just throwing them into the deep end like i did with twice, and i made a doc titled "skz spy snippet". 
> 
> as you can tell, the snippet became 9.4k!! fml
> 
> will be posting skz, got7 and twice instalments to this universe under different pseuds so people don't get confused :"") anyway please enjoy my suffering here thank you

There are better things that Han Jisung could be doing right now.

He could be doing target practice with the custom-made .45 Changbin had given him as an early birthday present last week. Or challenging Hyunjin to a speed eating showdown in the Academy cafeteria. Or talking to Minho-hyung. _Wow, I miss Minho-hyung_.

Jisung wriggles his fingers and toes in a daze, feeling them somewhere down there amidst the thick bands strapping him down to the table and the ropes, knotted around his wrists and ankles. Everything feels so hot and so cold at the same time. The harsh, factory grade light above him sways, shining directly into his eyes and making him squint as the bright circle burns itself into his retinas.

He would turn if his head wasn’t strapped down to the table, snugly in place so the industrial standard wooden clamp just presses lightly against his temples.

“We’ve been at this for a while,” a voice drifts across from the side. “You really going to piss us off like this?”

Something clanks against the side, and a face comes into view. It’s the same guy who’s been helming the interrogation for the past hour or so that Jisung’s been awake. In all honesty, Jisung thinks, they could’ve sent someone with a nicer face. Or just any semblance of basic oral hygiene. Like Minho hyung. Damn, Jisung would _pay_ to get interrogated by Minho hyung.

 _Where’d that thought come from,_ he thinks hazily. Probably the drugs still addling his brain. _Stay in school, kids._

Another clank, and there’s the squeaking sound of poorly oiled metal – the clamps are closing, rough wood now pressing painfully into the sides of Jisung’s head. If Hyunjin were here he’d make a joke about free slimming treatment.

“This is the last time we’re asking nicely,” the voice continues lazily. “ _Give us the coordinates of the Academy’s new weapons base, or else._ ”

Jisung remains silent. The wood clamps tighten.

“You know what this is, don’t you?” Another voice says, as the squeaking of the gears continues. “They use this in factories to hold wooden or metal beams when they’re cutting them up. Like those rafters up in the ceiling. Too _tight_ ,” the clamps close in further suddenly, and pain spikes through Jisung’s head, giving him a splitting headache. _Hehe. Splitting_. “And a rafter could snap. Now which do you think will last longer, a beam of hardwood, or your skull?”

Everything is fading in and out of view, and the spots in Jisung’s eyes are getting increasingly hard to blink away. The pain, coupled with the drugs and the light hanging above his eyes, is starting to ruin his mood.

“You’ve wasted a _fuckton_ of our time,” the second voice continues, dangerously close. At least he has better breath than the first guy. “So while you’re still able to think, we’re going to make this simple for you, okay? You’ve got two choices.”

And in that moment, Jisung can’t resist. “Yes or yes.”

A silence hangs in the air for a while, as a room of men exchange frustrated and confused looks.

“The _fuck_ ,” Jisung scoffs in a slur, kicking out with what little space he has. “Kind of self-respecting criminal organisation doesn’t listen to _Twice_?”

That’s when the explosions start.

*

Half an hour prior finds two boys, dressed identical to everyone else in the building, slouching aimlessly along a corridor. If anyone had been paying attention, though, they would’ve realised that they were in fact covering a lot of ground in a short time, and moving with a deadly precision.

“I can’t die here,” Hyunjin announces in a whisper. “I just realised.”

They go quiet for a moment, manoeuvring a tight spot past a roomful of people. No one pays attention to them – preppy black half masks, thick jackets and worn sneakers are kind of the dress code around here.

“You forgot to kiss Kkami this week?” Seungmin’s barely paying attention to the conversation, voice just audible.

“What? No,” Hyunjin looks mortally wounded at the prospect. _I kiss Kkami every day._ “I haven’t shown Felix that new meme I made.”

“The one of your face?”

“Nah, it’s another one. Minho hyung said my face made a _great_ meme though.”

“I…don’t think that was intended as a compliment, Hyunjin.”

Seungmin taps the taller boy’s wrist twice, and they turn in to a room.

“I can show you later too, if you want,” Hyunjin says hopefully. “It’s really funny. Felix always says laughter is the best medicine.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”

“Wait,” Hyunjin looks genuinely confused for a moment, brow furrowing. “Why? We’re not underwater.”

“What? No, it’s a figure of spe-…never mind,” Seungmin rolls his eyes lightly as they head for the opposite door, where two heavily-armed men are idling, watching them suspiciously. “We’re here.”

He clears his throat as they walk straight for the two guards, subtly tapping Hyunjin’s wrist, once this time.

“Hi, we’ve got a message for the security office,” he says, reaching into his jacket.

Both men lean forward to see his ID.

The thing about Hyunjin is that he’s so much _tall_ and _lanky_ that people don’t realise how strong he is until they feel it, first hand. Take now, for example.

In a fraction of a second, the first one gets the tip of a steel-capped boot to the temple, and goes down like the Titanic. Seungmin steps back, and the second one fumbles with his gun, giving Hyunjin just enough time to bring him down, smashing a knee into his head before tossing him backwards.

If he had as much ambition as he did killing capacity, he’d probably rule the world, Seungmin muses. Fortunately or otherwise, the same Hwang Hyunjin that could kill everyone in this building in the span of one night also could find nirvana with a chocolate milkshake and a nice cable television drama, and maybe some cuddles (ugh).

Seungmin pulls the gun out of his back pocket, then, locking eyes with Hyunjin, now dusting his hands with a look of mild annoyance, before opening the door.

“The hell was all the noise-…”

Another second, and the three people in the security office are toppling over, hypodermic darts sticking out of their neck. A cup of coffee pools pathetically on the floor. Hyunjin pulls the door shut behind the two of them, and they get to work.

“Jinnie,” Seungmin says, busying himself straight away with the computer terminal, opening a few windows. “Could you get a stool next to the main CPU?”

Hyunjin blinks. “The main whatsit?”

“The,” Seungmin sighs, pointing. “The big black thing over there. Get a chair next to it. We need to get Jeongin into the system.”

 _I knew that_ , Hyunjin mumbles, as he pulls a stool over. “Then?”

“Get the interceptor Jeongin gave us over some exposed wiring above the units,” Seungmin says. Then, just to make sure, he adds: “The black coil looking thing. Over the golden wire thing.”

There’s a blessed silence for a while, as Seungmin plugs the hard drive he’d worked on with Jeongin into the system. _Please work. I’ve spent way too much time on this for it to not work._

Then- “ _Ow!”_

Seungmin sighs, standing and walking over as Hyunjin gets down from the chair, nursing a finger. “It stung me!”

“You didn’t _touch_ the golden part of the wire, did you?”

Realisation dawns on Hyunjin’s face, and he opens and shuts his mouth. “No.”

Seungmin narrows his eyes, snapping on a pair of black insulation gloves, before taking the black coil from his hands and huffing as he gets on the stool. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

He’s forced to tiptoe to reach the wiring – not everyone can be as stupidly tall as Hyunjin. It takes him a few seconds of concerted effort to get it done, and he sighs in satisfaction, crossing his arms. “I think we’re good. Innie?”

Then the screens flicker, power surging, sparks flying from the wires, and Seungmin startles, losing his balance and toppling off the stool-…

And landing straight in Hyunjin’s arms.

The other boy is beaming, carrying him like it’s effortless. “We did it!”

“Yeah, haha, yay us,” Seungmin squirms a bit in discomfort (except it’s very comfortable, _too_ comfortable), but Hyunjin’s still looking around with absolutely zero awareness of this fact.

Then-…

“ _Wow_ ,” Jeongin’s voice comes in through their earpieces, quality crystal clear. “ _Did I do that? My power._ ”

“Quiet,” Seungmin wriggles out of Hyunjin’s arms and hops down, and the other boy looks momentarily confused. “Changbin-hyung, it’s on you now.”

He sighs, settling down in a recently vacated swivel chair. _Way too much effort for one day_.

The silence is wonderful, until Hyunjin speaks up, whispering like Seungmin won’t hear it over the radio anyway.

“Jeonginnie,” he says worriedly. “Do I have bad breath?”

Seungmin presses a finger into his temple and sighs.

*

“We’re online,” Chan twists his earbud in, fixing it in place with one hand while he taps the holographic touch display hovering over the table with the other. “Roll call.”

It’d been easy setting up this saferoom within the building, but getting them into the system - not so much. This organisation thrived off of information theft, anyway, it’d be a joke if they didn’t have a solid tech security system. Hence why he’d been forced to send Hyunjin and Seungmin in to get Jeongin into the system, when their maknae could usually just hack in from the outside, no problem.

“ _Changbin, on standby, 3rd level west wing_ ,” the boy’s calm voice drones in the earbud. There’s a pause after that.

“Woojin, on standby in saferoom,” the eldest says from behind Chan, where he’s rearranging their med supplies.

Chan grimaces. It’s strange enough, trying to get used to 9 instead of 3, without one suddenly disappearing from the equation. Changbin and Jisung had been his crutches, his lifelines in every sticky situation up till now, and losing even one of them was like losing a limb.

" _Minho, on standby at 5th level stairwell 5."_

_“Hyunjin and Seungmin, waiting for orders in security office.”_

_"Jeongin, at control centre, uploading live maps into your communicators now._ "

"Thanks. We're on once it's done," Chan says absently, arms crossed, running the plan through his head once again. _This has to work. We've got no choice if it doesn't_. "Remember, this whole plan is counting on us having the element of surprise. We _cannot_  let them know we're here, at least until we find out where they're holding Jisung."

Unease twists his insides, thinking of what they might be doing to him. He knows what they're looking for, knows that Jisung has exactly the information they want - how would they torture him? Drug him? Cut him up?

A hand works its way around his shoulder, firm but soothing. Woojin rounds the table, slinging a pack of medical supplies across his back. _You okay?_ His dark eyes ask.

He offers a thin smile, knowing it's impossible to lie to Woojin anyway. 

Something's nagging at the back of his mind, and as he ticks off a mental checklist in his head, his smile vanishes. "Felix?"

Someone coughs infinitesimally into the radio. It sounds like Minho.

The way Changbin clears his throat is unmistakeable. " _Isn't he with Minho-hyung?_ "

" _He uh, went off to scope the area some time ago,"_ the specialist sounds guilty, even over the radio. " _He thought he found something linked to the trafficking case we were working on."_

" _And you just let him_ go _,_ hyung?"

" _Look, he said he was just going to be gone a second, okay?_ "

"Felix?” Chan cuts in, pinging Felix’s communicator. “Felix come in.”

Radio silence holds for a full three seconds.

It's hard enough telling himself to stay calm without having to tell that to the others too. "Jeongin, anything on your end?"

" _Uhm, okay,_ " Jeongin sounds hesitant. Quite common, but never good. " _The good news is, I found Felix hyung on the cams. The bad news, he managed to get into a secure area, and he uhm. I think he set off a tripwire._ "

"Is he _okay_?"

" _He's fine, I think, just hanging upside down from the ceiling, and people are coming, they uh, don't look very happy - oh, they found him."_

It's only through years of experience and practice that Chan does not sound like the world's just crashed around his ears when he speaks again. "Okay. Okay, they might not know the rest of us are here yet. Felix is a big boy, he can take care of himself. What we need to do now is-..."

" _Jeongin, can you lock his position down on my map?"_

" _No_ , Changbin," Chan mouths out a swear word at the wall, running a hand roughly through his hair. " _Do not_  go after him, you're going to give away our position and we're going to have to reconfigure-..."

" _Thanks Innie,"_  Changbin sounds like he's running. " _Hyunjin's close enough, he can cover me."_

 _"Oh, yeah, sure!_ " Hyunjin pipes up nervously. Then, quieter, " _Hey Minnie, what was he supposed to do again?"_

Chan groans, massaging his temples. _I really fucking hate this job._  " _Okay_. Okay fine. Hyunjin, you and Seungmin cover Changbin, _get_ the explosives in place and armed. Minho, get ready for when Woojin and I come up. _Changbin_ ," he punctuates each syllable with the cocking of his gun. "We're going to talk about this when we're back."

" _Yes hyung,"_  it's incredible, how amiable Changbin can sound in the midst of blatant disobedience. Woojin's smiling, then, gripping Chan's shoulder, and the burden lightens, ever so slightly.

" _Maps updated,_ " Jeongin says. " _Red individuals indicates hostiles,"_ he hesitates. " _Lots of hostiles."_

"Okay, that's our go signal," Chan hooks the half mask on, pulling the jacket closer over his shoulders, Woojin right behind him as they leave the room. "Break a leg, Unit 10. And remember the plan."

" _Let's get this bread!"_  Hyunjin hollers. There's a pause.

" _Please never say that again_ ," Seungmin says, as a teacher would to a preschooler who's just cussed in front of them.

*

This would be a great place for one of those memes, Felix thinks.

Ok, so here's how it goes. He's hanging upside down from the ceiling by one leg, rose blond hair everywhere, twiddling his thumbs and wondering what kind of thrashing he's going to get from Chan for this one. 

His knife is on the floor where he'd dropped it after setting off the tripwire, and while he _could_  technically devise other ways of getting out of this alone, the 6 or so guns of different makes and models currently pointed at his head tell him he might have to wait.

Okay, then. * _Record scratch, freeze frame*._   _Yep, haha, that's me. So you're probably wondering how I got myself into this situation..._

"Where are you from?" One of the men asks. He looks interested. They probably don't get intruders very often.

"Earth," Felix answers immediately, with every bit of honesty. "I'm quite sure."

"Fuck, it's another crackhead," one of the others grumbles. 

"You think he's with the kid upstairs?" _Upstairs, huh_. 

"I like kids," Felix says seriously. "I want three."

"Doesn't matter, lock him up and the bosses will deal with him later," the main guy holsters his gun, already looking bored. _Oof, he’s probably not going to be happy he did that later_. "You losers know where it is, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, west wing top level, two units over, right?" Another guy walks up, looking grumpy. Probably just wants more sleep. "Hey, you two slackers, come over here and hold him still while I tie him up."

The thing about situations like these is that they usually go in Felix's way. He doesn't know why, or fully understand the mechanics of it, but good things just sort of happen around him, _for_ him. It isn't a 100% sort of thing, of course, but it usually works out eventually, even when it doesn't at first. Or maybe that's just Felix being optimistic.

Seungmin calls him Unit 10’s lucky charm. _If he were lucky_ , Changbin would grumble, while polishing his gun or doing something equally boring, _then he wouldn't be here_.

So it's not exactly Felix's fault that he doesn't feel too alarmed as he obediently holds his hands out to be tied up. 

If anything, he thinks chirpily, as a muted _boom_  echoes through the room, making everyone pause, _they_  should be feeling alarmed.

Then the door opens.

Opens as in is cleanly blown off its hinges, then kicked through the air like a large fiberboard projectile, bowling over the poor souls who’d been unlucky enough to be standing in its way.

"Surprise," Changbin pulls out both guns from their respective shoulder holsters, unceremoniously nailing down two people in about 0.2 seconds.

Felix might be lucky, but he knows an opportunity when he sees one. Grabbing the remaining length of rope around his hands, he latches it expertly around the neck of his captor, currently struggling to factor in the new addition to the room, before tugging tremendously, slamming them into the wall, dragging down one more person as he goes. _By his own rope, too. That's gotta be embarrassing._

By this time, the two who'd previously been flattened by the door have gotten up, bearing various door-inflicted injuries, and are looking angry. This doesn't seem to faze Changbin. He's usually angrier.

With a fantastic spinning kick that would make an Olympic Taekwondo champion resign from shame, he takes down one, shoots down another, then ducks behind a crate when the opponent finally figures out how to return fire. 

"Hey! Five foot!" The last one yells, pointing a gun at Felix ( _we use the metric system here, for crying out loud_ ). "Drop the weapon or fairy boy gets it!"

If he were a little bit wiser, he would’ve shut up. But then again, it’s not every day you meet a marksman who can trace your position in the room blindfolded based on a single auditory cue.

The barrel of the gun inches out beside the crate, shoots, hits home, and retracts. All in all, it’s a rather anticlimactic end to an epic fight. Felix would give it an (unbiased, honestly) 9.5/10.

There's a distinct _click-click_  as Changbin reloads while he stands, holstering both guns with the safeties on because he's not as much of an idiot as the people here are, contrary to whatever Seungmin has to say about it. His right hand is a little slower than his left – trigger finger trembling slightly like it always has since he’d been forced to switch to his middle finger (he liked to say it was his final fuck you before taking someone down).

Changbin folds his arms across his chest.

"Hehe," Felix waves sheepishly. "Hi."

"Better have a good excuse for this one, _fairy boy_ ," Changbin places a warm hand on Felix's back, swinging him forward, then swiftly cutting him loose, using the momentum (and lots of upper body strength on Felix's part, ok) to flip him upright onto his feet, before he can land flat on his face.

Felix picks up his weapons, twisting in his earpiece, beaming as he sheaths his knife. "I knew you'd come and get me."

"That's not an excuse, that's a job description," the older boy rolls his eyes, pulling up a holographic map and tugging on a black touchscreen glove. "I don't get paid enough for this."

"Bright side," Felix tunes into the radio. "Hi Chan-hyung! I found - stop screaming - I think I found Jisung. He might be somewhere over," he leans into Changbin's space, ignoring the other boy’s jolt of surprise, casually taking his hand and tracing out a row of rooms, so they blink red. "Here. West wing top floor, two units over from where Changbin and I are now."

“ _Innie?”_

" _Felix hyung is right_ ," Jeongin says after a few moments, not bothering to question it. All of them are kind of used to it at this point. " _I narrowed down the search field and did a detailed scan, Jisung hyung's in the 3rd room from Stairwell 3,_ " the row of red narrows down to one room. " _Uhm, four hostiles inside. Eight guarding that floor. I don't think anyone knows we're here yet_?"

 _"Minnie and I are done with the explosives,"_  Hyunjin's voice comes over. " _What now?"_

" _Stay on Level 6. Blow 5, then head up through Stairwell 3, after the guards come down to investigate,_ " Chan orders. " _Do NOT intercept. Changbin and Felix, secure the escape route on the roof. Once we get Jisung, we're probably going to need to get the hell out of dodge, so stay on your toes."_

_"Where's Dodge?"_

_"_ No _, Hyunjin, that's not what he meant-..."_

"Felix and I are moving out," Changbin mumbles, as both of them start walking. Then he stops at the sound of something slithering along the floor, turning around, and sighing.

"What, were you planning to carry out the rest of the mission trussed up like a turkey?" He grumbles, and Felix peers down as Changbin kneels, nimble fingers quickly untying the remainder of the rope knotted around the younger boy's ankle, before tossing it aside.

He stands, dusting his hands, but Felix catches his wrist before they can start off again, thrusting a coil of rope into his hands - the same one that'd been used to tie his hands just now.

"I feel like you should hang onto this, hyung," he says earnestly. 

Changbin takes the rope pensively - it's good quality rope, a _lot_ of it, heavy enough to weigh him down in a fight. He knows he shouldn't question this, because he'll always get the same answer, but the sentence hangs at the tip of his tongue anyway. He hates taking orders without reason ( _Chan can testify to this, the poor man_ ) but it's different, it's always different, with Felix. 

"Okay," he takes the rope, pushing it into his backpack without much further thought. "Now let's go, before Chan starts threatening to dock our pay."

 

*

 

There are times Woojin feels like the campy ridiculousness of every mission is enough to block out the stress of life and death that they face. Then there are times like this, when he knows that it isn't.

It'll never be enough.

He takes point behind Chan, feeling Minho right behind him, scanning the deserted corridor as they move quickly but silently along the space - seems like the explosions really drew everyone downstairs. 

The door ahead is inconspicuous, similar to every other door in the corridor, and for a moment, the thought of what could be behind it scares him. But many things scare him. That's why he's still alive.

" _Same four hostiles inside,”_ Jeongin sounds nervous. _“There's no cameras, I can't see what they're doing, but according to the infrared, they're not moving.”_  

They line up along the sides, and Woojin catches the look in Chan’s eyes. His eyes are cold, hardened over now, like ice. It's not the look he gives Hyunjin and Seungmin when they skive off practice, or the one he gives Changbin and Minho when they're being particularly stubborn about a strategy argument. This is the look he reserves solely for anyone in a position to hurt Unit 10.

Woojin nods once.

Chan steps back, before kicking the door open, raising his gun immediately, and the other two follow. "Drop your weapons and hand him over."

Immediately, Woojin knows something is wrong.

The one in front, clearly the one in charge of situations like this, has his hands raised, a look of blithe innocence on his face. He's not much older than any of them are. 

Then he steps aside, letting them see past the other three.

Woojin lowers his gun slightly, staring.

Jisung is curled up on the floor, eyes fluttering open and shut, hands tied behind his back, clearly drugged out of his mind. But what draws their attention is the black vest locked into place around his slight frame, blinking with red lights.

 _Fuck_. It's like a shitty spy movie. Except they're all probably getting paid less.

"You get the situation, right?" The man nods, pointing at Jisung, before waving the remote in his hands. Woojin sees Chan's gaze harden imperceptibly at the action. _Damn, that guy's going to get it later_. "So here's what's going to happen. We're going to walk out through that door," he jerks his thumb to the door behind them. "And you're going to do whatever you want short of following us, because once I take my finger off this button, you're going to have to scrape this kid's expensive dye job off the floor. Get it?" 

With that, they turn, filing out the other end, and the door slams behind them, like a full stop.

There's silence for a while. No one speaks, even though everyone'd clearly heard that over the comms.

Woojin glances at Chan. There's a muscle moving in his jaw, eyes fixed on Jisung. For a moment, he’s tempted to reach out and touch him, just to let him know that they're there. 

Then Chan moves forward, the first step jerky and forceful, but smoothing over into a purposeful stride. He takes out a black lens, unravelling the black mechanism smoothly and fixing it to the side of his face, before kneeling down in front of Jisung. "Woojin, help me get him upright. Jeongin, Seungmin,” he focuses the lens, knowing a visual’s being transmitted live to the other two boys. “Give me a breakdown."

Woojin gently hefts Jisung into a sitting position, and the younger boy's head lolls, lips mumbling a nonsensical babble. Standing at one side, he can see Minho, clever fingers clenching into fists and relaxing in bursts. "We should go after them."

"Not yet," Chan holds up a hand, without taking his eyes off the vest fixed on Jisung. "Not yet," he repeats, glancing at Woojin this time, who shoots Minho an appeasing look. "Jeongin? Seungmin?"

" _Standard IED, I don't think they had the time to go for anything fancy. I don't know much, I'm just a hacker guy,"_  the youngest sounds nervous, stuttering through his words. 

 _"And I'm just an engineer guy!_ " Seungmin sounds a bit hysterical. " _I've only ever defused practice bombs!"_

"Guys, focus," Chan snaps, voice authoritative. "Top priority here is the remote trigger. Is there a way to knock out the signal transmission?"

" _Okay_ ," Jeongin takes a deep breath, the sound rustling through the mic, clearly trying not to panic. _"Uhm, good news, there is a way to knock it out, if we have some sort of electromagnetic pulse scrambler, and I saw one just now. Bad news, it's in the security office three floors down. By the time we get there through all the guards, they're going to be in safe range to detonate."_

There's a pause, and Chan inhales deeply, willing his mind to _think_. "Report positions, everyone."

"Minho and Woojin, top floor."

" _Hyunjin and Seungmin, patrolling the corridor outside."_

" _Felix and Changbin, at rendezvous, on the roof."_

*

_On the roof._

Changbin's mind whirs, a side effect of the neatly suppressed fear and panic currently coursing through his veins. _On the roof, on the roof._

The night breeze caresses his face, through the miscellaneous hunks of junk and rooftop storage sheds up here, and he glances over at Felix, the other boy staring off the edge of the building. 

Then-...

"Jeongin, which side did you say the office was on again? _"_  Changbin asks.

" _West wing, over here,_ " Jeongin answers promptly, highlighting the room on their maps.

_That's four floors down directly under where Felix is standing._

" _Why_?" Chan asks. Changbin can literally hear the squint in his voice - he's probably going to get in trouble later, with how he's been pushing it today. But he thinks of Jisung, helpless and stuck with those explosives strapped to his torso, life hanging in the balance.

Then Changbin makes a decision.

"I can abseil down the side of the building, get past the guards and into the office, _"_  Changbin says, already turning his knapsack around and unzipping it. "Once I'm in, Innie, you can instruct me on how to get the scrambler working."

" _Abseil_?" The leader repeats, in a well-practiced _are you sure_  voice that suggests he’s had it up to _here_ with Changbin’s shit for today _._ " _Do you have enough cable? Or a rope?_ "

Changbin lifts the coil from his bag, before glancing at Felix with a grin, and the younger boy gives him a thumbs-up and a bright smile. 

"You know what, hyung?" he says, zipping his bag back and throwing it back over his shoulder, before testing an exhaust vent near the edge of the building, and starting to tie the rope around it. "As a matter of fact, I do."

*

Despite the situation, the panic fluttering at the bottom of Chan's stomach lessens considerably, then. Contrary to the events of today, Changbin's one of the only few he'd actually wholeheartedly trust with his life, and definitely the one he’d trust the most with Jisung’s. 

"Okay," he turns to Minho, who's visibly revving to go, clearly pissed off. "Minho and Hyunjin, go after those pricks, but _do not_  reveal your position until _after_  Changbin knocks out the signal. Jeongin, keep them updated. After Changbin gets it, though," he shoots Minho a look, and a cruel smile spreads on the other boy's face. "Hit them hard."

"Gotcha, hyung," Minho turns to leave, saluting with a cheesy smile. Chan can hear him cracking his knuckles thoughtfully even as he steps out into the corridor, and for a moment, he feels a twinge of pity.

"Any questions?" He asks instead, this time into the communicator.

"One more thing, hyung.”

It’s Seungmin this time, standing in the doorway nervously, and Chan winces, wondering what bad news could possibly make this situation worse. "The explosives on Jisung, they’re set on a timer. Which means, even if you knock out the signal, it's going to go off eventually."

"How long?" Chan asks, unwilling to let the anxiety show in his voice. 

Seungmin walks over, Chan moving aside to let him kneel in front of Jisung. The mechanic’s fingers go through the jacket deftly but carefully, and after a moment's searching, he takes out a blade, slowly slitting open a bit of the hard fabric and pushing it aside to reveal a glowing red timer.

_21:03_

Chan freezes. Seungmin's hands start to shake.

"Okay,” Woojin asks, a steady hand on Seungmin's shoulder. “Okay, what are our options, Minnie?”

"We could," Seungmin clears his throat. "We could try to cut the jacket loose and get rid of it in time. Or we could," he swallows audibly. "We could try to defuse the bomb."

"What do you recommend?" 

"There's a," the younger boy's voice gains back some strength. "There's a mechanism here," he points to a barely visible black wire hidden in one of the straps. "It's set such that the bomb will go off automatically if we try to cut through that strap. There's probably more of them."

"So it'd be better to defuse it, then," Chan says. Seungmin nods. He looks pale.

Woojin grips the younger boy's shoulder reassuringly, then, looking him in the eye with a smile. "Have confidence. You can do this, we believe in you. And we're going to be right here."

Seungmin nods again, breathing deeply, before taking a roll of black canvas out of his bag, unrolling it to reveal a bunch of tools on the floor. His fingers tremble when he slides on the pair of digitised glasses he'd customised himself, but once he picks up a delicate pair of clippers, eyes fixed on the illegible mess of wires, he shifts into a deadly focus. 

 _Twenty minutes till life or death_. Chan turns to Woojin, taking a deep breath. "You should go."

"I'm not going anywhere, Chan."

"As the medic, it's not your place to put yourself in unnecessary danger," Chan's voice gains an edge. 

"And is that your place, as our leader?" Woojin finds himself daring to ask. Chan's lips thin, but the other man doesn't back down, looking right back at him.

 _I'll go if you give me the order_ , is the clear message in his eyes. He extends an open hand, palm up.

Slowly, silently, Chan turns back to look at Jisung, but he takes Woojin's hand anyway, gripping it like it's a lifeline, calloused thumb rubbing a familiar pattern into the back of Woojin's hand.

This is all they know, and if it has to be, this is the way it'll end.

*

Detaching the rope from the makeshift harness on his waist, Changbin slips through the window without much difficulty, turning the corner swiftly and heading straight for the security room.

In one movement, he shoves the door open, both guns revving and ready to go in his hands, and mows down the three people in the room investigating the security breach, all groaning something out along the lines of _shit, it's him_  as they slip off to an induced slumber.

"Evening, gentlemen," he says out of habit, holstering one gun and holding the other at the ready as he flips open a lens, the same as the one Chan'd used just now, fixing it on the side of his head, closing the door behind him. "Innie, what do I do?"

" _You know where the wired USB in your utility belt is, right hyung? Can you plug me into the system? I’ll take it from there."_

"I don't know, can I?" Changbin mutters, pulling out the USB with ease and pushing it into the CPU, seeing it light up green. _There’s that done, at least._

Now he just has to keep the connection while Jeongin activates the scrambler. Curiosity gets the better of him, though, and he leans over, fingers moving deftly across the keyboard as he hacks into the terminal. After all, back when it’d been just been 3RACHA (one can thank Jisung for the cheesy name), he'd been the one in charge of anything to do remotely with tech, since Chan’s relationship with computers was solely business, and the most Jisung could do was to try turning it off and on again.

 _Back then_. Before Unit 10 had even been Formalised, when they’d been stuck doing gruntwork for Unit 7 and Unit 9 (Jaebum and Jihyo had been nice about it, of course, but it still sucked sometimes), when it’d been just Chan, Changbin and Jisung, holed up on stakeouts searching for leads on dead-end cases.

Being in this line of work gave one plenty of opportunities to think about a life where the people closest to them might not be around to see tomorrow. But Changbin’s good at not thinking about that.

For now, at least.

He gets into the system with ease, thanks to Jeongin's work from just now. Frowning, he goes through the different folders of encrypted information, able to snatch bits and pieces from what he can decode on the spot. Maybe Felix was onto something, with what he suspected about the trafficking. 

"Hey, Innie, can you download these files?" Changbin focuses the lens. "I want to decode them when we're back."

" _I dunno, can I?_ " Jeongin mumbles, and Changbin scowls. 

"Listen here, smartmouth-..." he starts.

Then he stops, grabbing his gun off the desk and whipping around. He manages to get one of the guys that'd been creeping up on him, but the second one is faster, slamming him back into the desk so hard his head cracks one of the monitors, and his gun flies out of his hand, skittering across the desk.

" _I’m listening_.” 

"Not - the time - Innie!" Changbin snarls, blocking and dodging blows, effectively imprisoned to the desk - he can’t disconnect the USB, not while the signal on Jisung’s vest is still operational. He should've just taken off the utility belt just now while he'd had the time, fuck.

His head is already spinning from that first hit against the monitor, and with the awkward position, he gets a second one to the crown, dazing him. He's a ranged kind of guy, for shit's sake, his hand-to-hand's only ever been passable, since Chan and Jisung usually took care of that. 

He kicks the second guy away, only to have to roll out of the way to dodge the blow of a third one. Damn, these guys were coming in _waves._ It's like a shitty franchise video game campaign. Taking advantage of the split second reprieve, he snatches the other gun out of its holster, aiming and firing. His mistake - firing twice, just to be sure, because of the way his head is pounding.

It hits home, but the guy drops just to reveal another one, standing at the doorway, gun pointed at him, clearly just waiting for a clear shot.

“ _Hyung, look out!”_

“Focus!” Changbin shouts, with full knowledge that his clip is empty.

His life flashes before his eyes, muscles tensed up like a spring, pushing him out of range, through pure survival instinct, but there’s a familiar _crack_ sound of something long and hard (thank goodness Minho didn’t hear that train of thought) against a human skull.

“Fuck!” The guy turns around, clutching his head, only to get jettisoned across the room with one kick, slamming into one of the panels and crumpling to the floor.

Felix stands there, dropping the bit of piping he’d been holding with a _clang_ , before closing the door behind him politely.

“We should start a swear jar,” he comments.

“Why are you here?” Changbin wheezes. He checks the connection, breathing a sigh of relief to see that it’s fine.

“I had the feeling I should come down after you,” Felix says seriously. _Right, of course._

A relieved, unwound silence reigns for a while. Then-…

“ _I got it!”_ Jeongin cheers. “ _Signal’s out! Phew, that was hard.”_

“Hah,” Changbin grunts, struggling up, able to detach the USB at last, letting it retract back into his belt. He could _really_ use a nap.

“So,” Felix comments, casually pulling out the wallets of one of the men and scanning its contents with interests. “What’s your excuse?” 

Changbin grimaces, cracking open a cold compress and applying it to his head. “Knew you’d come and get me.”

No matter the pain, then, it’s impossible not to smile at the way Felix turns to him and beams.

*

“ _Signal’s out! Phew, that was hard._ ”

Minho smiles, chin propped up on the handlebars of the motorcycle he’d casually appropriated (it was just sitting there, no one was using it, which meant it was free game, okay?), leaning closer to the bike as he watches the group of men enter the Volkswagen in the carpark, before driving off. 

Jeongin had cut the signal with ample time leftover - he doubted these guys would detonate until they were safely away, lest the cops track down their license plate. 

He waits one second, two, then fires up the engine, headlights off, speeding off into the night. 

See, he’s not like the others. He’s not like Chan, with his strict set of morals, or Woojin with his pacifist ideals, or even Changbin, who brainwashes himself with the idea of needing to protect the people he loves.

Minho just _really likes_ doing what he does.

It’s not like he _talks_ about it, or anything, though – that would just be really bad PR, especially in front of the kids.

He weaves through the practically nonexistent traffic easily, following the car, wondering what route they’re going to use. It looks like they’re heading straight for a lesser-used highway. _Nice, less to clean up afterwards, then._

Minho waits one moment, then another, as they enter the highway and filter into the left lane, reaching a specific zone out of reach of the traffic cameras. Then he pulls back, reaching into his jacket languidly and pressing a button.

The body of the car lifts into the air with the force of the explosion, cracking the asphalt, turning on its side and crashing into the safety barrier on the side, leaving long golden scratch marks of paint as it screeches and creaks to a slow, broken halt.

_Shame, that was a gorgeous car._

Minho pulls over on the road shoulder, leg swinging over the back of the bike as he dismounts, taking his time to pull his helmet off, shaking his hair free. _Always look great when you’re going to be the last thing someone sees_ , is what they used to teach him, back when he ran around with his previous crew.

The first one, worming his way out of the wreckage, gets a steel-capped toe to the temple, and possibly a concussion. The second gets slammed back into the seat, head cracking against the edge of the door, before Minho clips him in place with a seatbelt neatly and jams the lock. The third is unconscious, bleeding profusely from more wounds than Minho can count on his fingers, onto the steering wheel.

The fourth, Minho saves for last, dragging him out and slamming him against the upturned, singed bonnet of the car.

“Should’ve figured,” the guy says, spitting blood out the side of his mouth, tossing the remote aside now that it’s useless. “I told them not to go for the Volkswagen.”

“I rigged all your cars. Wouldn’t have made a difference,” Minho shrugs. “Your IED gave me the idea.”

“Doesn’t matter. The kid’s going to blow up anyway once the timer runs out.”

“You know what you _should’ve figured?_ That whether or not the little twerp explodes into his next life or not, we would’ve come after you,” Minho slams him back against the bonnet, kicking his gun out of his hand before he can work it out of the holster. “And that when it came down to it,” he leans in. “They’d let me be the one to do it.”

“Should that make me scared?” The guy seems to have zero sense of self-preservation whatsoever, though, to be in an occupation like this, Minho supposes at least a little of that is necessary. “You might’ve been scary before, but aren’t you JYP Academy’s little bitch now, Lee Minho?”

“First of all,” Minho twists the man’s broken arm backwards, snapping the bone cleanly and forcing it over the bonnet. “If you’re going to call me an animal, at least make it a cat, I hate dogs. Second of all,” he starts to pull the man’s fingers backwards, to breaking point. “The Academy won’t know what I don’t tell them.”

The screaming gets drowned out (way too quickly) by the hum of a Hyundai Avante pulling up at the road shoulder, a familiar face behind the wheel, and Minho sighs in disappointment. “On second thought, asshole, looks like today’s your lucky day.”

He slams the guy’s head into the metal hard enough to make a dent (in the metal, not his skull, though Minho supposes there might’ve been a dent in his skull, he wasn’t looking very closely) and the man drops like a rock, crumbling to the floor.

“I did what you said, disabled all the cameras and diverted the traffic!” Hyunjin says cheerfully, shaking his head as he trots over from the car. Then he sees the carnage. “Oh.”

“They’re fine, just a little beat up,” Minho dismisses it with a wave. He wants to make a joke, but one has to be careful to be extremely literal around Hyunjin, especially for matters of life and death. “C’mon, help me tie them up and dump them in the boot. I think Chan wants to question some of them, and Changbin’s onto something with one of our other cases.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin says, relieved, the fact that they’re alive being the only thing he’d picked up from that sentence. “That’s good. You know, with the whole Academy policy about no excessive violence, and whatever.”

“Hah,” Minho says absently, feeling just a little more at ease for the first time in weeks as he starts dragging one of them to the car boot by the ankle. “Yeah, that.”

*

_02:43_

The seconds are ticking by slowly. The whole room is sunken into an oppressive silence, unease running high with every passing moment.

“How are his vitals?” Chan asks softly, steadily, not wanting a single thing to break Seungmin’s concentration.

Woojin presses two fingers against Jisung’s neck. “His pulse is a little slower than normal, but it should go back once the drugs wear off. I can run a full diagnostic during evac later.”

Chan appreciates the certainty in his voice. The _when_ , rather than an _if._ Heaven knows they could all use some of that confidence now, especially Seungmin.

The mechanic is still crouched over Jisung’s jacket. He’s made a lot of progress in the short time they’ve had so far, judging by the mess of wires now exposed. The light attached to the band around his forehead wavers when he shakes his head - if Hyunjin were here, Chan knows with a startling certainty, he would coo over how cute it made Seungmin look.

He’s glad Hyunjin isn’t here now. He’s glad all of them are safe.

_01:38_

Jisung’s stirring, eyelids fluttering, like it’s taking him a world of effort to just keep his eyes open. Chan feels a strong surge of anger, which he quickly smothers. He can’t afford to make any emotionally charged decisions here.

The younger boy mumbles something, head lolling. He’s trying to look at Chan, straight ahead of him.

“Sh-go,” he forces out, tilting to one side, held up only by Woojin’s grip around him. “Go.”

“We’re not going anywhere, Sungie,” Chan says firmly. “We’re staying right here.”

_01:12_

Seungmin’s hands are moving with more frustration than anything, now, and he almost completely stops at one moment, running a hand through his hair.

“I can’t figure it out,” he whispers, choking up. “I don’t get it, it’s literally unsolvable, none of it’s going to-…”

“Minnie. It’s okay, go at it slowly, start from the beginning onwards again,” Woojin says quietly, reaching forward to rub the other boy’s back reassuringly.

Seungmin brushes tears out of his eyes with his sleeves, sniffing, before attacking the mess of wires again, changing the focus of the digitised lenses he’s wearing.

 _I should never have let this happen_ , is all Chan can think of for a moment, though he knows it’s a poisonous thought, taking up space in his mental processes that could be used to planning a way out of this. _I should never have let Jisung take that assignment on his own. I should’ve known something was wrong._

Jisung’s breathing is still shallow, face still pale, still bleeding from several wounds on his head.

 _“What’s the status, hyung_?” Hyunjin asks cautiously over their communicators.

Chan’s throat tightens. “It’s going to be okay.”

They don’t ask anymore, after that.

_00:45_

Seungmin freezes. “Not connected,” he mumbles, tracing one of the wires, and Chan knows better than to ask him what he means. “Here.”

He straightens suddenly, looking around them, and Chan snaps to alertness. “Minnie?”

The younger boy looks pale. “Hyung. We need something to contain the explosion.”

“What do you mean?”

_00:37_

“I deactivated the part of the jacket connected to the straps, but I can’t get the rest of it down in time. We have to take off the jacket and get rid of it in time.”

Woojin’s already moving, switchblade out, lifting a strap with a raised brow to get confirmation from Seungmin, before cutting clean through it, moving onto the next ones. “Stairwell’s too far. We might not make it in time.”

Chan’s dark eyes are wild and searching, fists clenched. He knows, he knows it’ll be too late if they make a run for it now, at least, if they’re on the same floor, and carrying Jisung.

_00:25_

His eyes catch something dark and snaking, then, swaying in the wind outside one of the more distant windows.

The rope. The one that Changbin’d used to abseil down.

Chan makes a split-second decision.

“Harnesses,” he barks, snapping on the military-grade silver carabiner to his belt, before lifting Jisung into his arms, the boy now completely free from the vest, and securing him to his front with cable. “Rope. Abseil down, two floors, break in through the window.”

“ _What?_ ” Seungmin almost screeches.

“Minnie, you’re with me,” Woojin urges him up. The eldest pushes open the window, just short of pulling the entire pane off its hinges, and Chan stands, Jisung slumping against his shoulder, mumbling nonsensically.

_00:11_

_There’s not enough time. We’re not going to make it._

Chan’s heart is pounding as Woojin disappears down, followed unsteadily by Seungmin. He takes the rope, fingers shaking, fastening it to the second carabiner and feeling his stomach lurch as he steps off the ledge.

*

The explosion rocks the building, bursting glass and sending shards everywhere through the entire top level. Car alarms go off, lights in neighbouring buildings go on, and the city is rudely awakened at the crack of dawn, buzzing with confusion and fear.

Minho stops the car right outside the garage, stepping out, hearing Hyunjin do the same from the passenger seat.

There’s something on the pavement in front of them. It’s a piece of rope, singed and frayed at one end, useless and broken.

He strains his neck to look up, seeing the remnant of rope tied to the roof swaying in the wind above. Beside him, Hyunjin stares at the rope in Minho’s hands, starting to fidget anxiously.

“Hello?” Minho all but shouts into his mic. “Did you make it?”

“ _Hyung_?” Changbin’s voice comes in. “ _Guys?”_

Silence. Then a tinkle of glass through the radio, and a nasal moan, definitely Seungmin’s. _“Ow_.”

“Oh thank _fuck_ ,” Minho leans back against the bonnet of the car, knees suddenly weak. “If you guys had died the paperwork would’ve been _disgusting_.”

*

“Minho, your concern, as always,” Woojin groans, pushing himself into a sitting position, careful not to prick his palm on any broken glass. “Is appreciated.”

Seungmin is fixing his glasses onto his face, bleeding from a few superficial cuts, bruised and shaken but otherwise okay, and Woojin himself has a long vertical slash up his left arm from a shard on the window pane. He makes sure the younger boy’s okay, before crawling over to Chan.

The leader’s back is facing them, bleeding onto the floor from a nasty slash on his shoulder, and for a moment Woojin’s chest constricts when he reaches over, gently rolling the other man onto his back.

“I need a career change,” Chan groans, then, and Woojin lets out a breath of relief, fumbling to help unclip Jisung from his belt.

“Preach,” Jisung slurs, wobbling dangerously when they pull him into a sitting position. He squeaks when Chan wordlessly drags him into a tight hug, then, one that’s quickly followed by Woojin, and then Seungmin.

They’re all a little bruised and beaten up, but they’re here, with each other, and that’s all that matters right now.

Then the door bursts open, making Seungmin (and even Jisung, in his drugged-out state) jump, and a handful of guys flood in, guns pointed at the group.

“Uhm,” One of them says, clearly not quite sure about what’s going on and following some long-forgotten, dusty protocol in his head. “Freeze.”

There’s a silence in which no one moves, for some time. Then Chan stands.

Glass tinkles to the ground at the movement, breaking the pin-drop silence, but not as loudly as the black leather switchblade he pulls out from his belt, and the clean _snikt_ sound it makes, ejecting from the handle.

About 75% of the guys now look like they need a career change, too. Chan tends to have that effect on people when he tries. They could start a union, Woojin thinks, as he stands too, effectively rounding up that percentage to a clean 100.

(Long story short, it takes them maybe about 5, 10 minutes longer to get to the new rendezvous point, mostly because Jisung needed to throw up halfway down the stairs.)

*

Recovery is a slow and painful process, made even more so by Felix Fortnite dancing every 10 or so minutes.

Jisung sits upright on his bed, blowing on a flask of soup Woojin had brought up earlier. Hyunjin and Felix are having their own little party at the next bed, in an attempt to see who can drive Changbin crazy faster.

Seungmin is sulking on Jisung’s other side, a bandage around his arm and one on his forehead, Jeongin curled up at the foot of the bed, both talking tech garbage that Jisung can’t exactly decipher, but can guess that it probably has something to do with the explosives that’d been strapped to him earlier.

He shivers. Just a day earlier, he wasn’t even sure if he’d live to see tomorrow. Even now, tucked into the safety of the JYP Academy Seoul Base medical bay, the sensation’s difficult to forget.

Chan walks in, then, flanked closely by Woojin, both carrying files of different kinds. Changbin sits up, batting away Hyunjin’s overexcited hammer dance. “Hyung?”

“We got a commendation,” Chan announces, and a sigh of relief runs through the ward. “Management didn’t like us running off on our own but they think we did a pretty swell job with the little equipment we had.”

“Anything else?” Jisung asks worriedly.

“JYP says he’s glad you’re back,” the leader continues, with a wry smile. “You were, quotation marks, a very expensive investment. In other news, Minnie, he’s going to get Dahyun to come down for a special explosives course with you next week.”

Seungmin nods once, reproachfully, as the pre-debrief dissociates, and Woojin walks over to Jisung’s bed.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Terribad. They won’t let me eat anything other than porridge, hyung,” Jisung complains, before taking a sip of his soup. At least the stuff that Woojin brings him is nice. He also can’t deny the relief he feels now, that things are okay, they’re going to go back to normal after this.

The medic lets out a breathy laugh, reaching over to mess his hair up. “Just don’t get in trouble again. Can’t have Chan losing any more hair than he already has.”

“I _heard that._ ”

Woojin leaves Jisung’s bed, then, only to be replaced by a body casually flopping into Jisung’s personal space, reaching up lazily to flick the bottom of the soup flask.

“ _Hyung_ ,” Jisung gasps, holding his flask protectively to his chest, as Minho grins up at him. “This is the _only_ nice thing I’ve eaten in the past 72 hours, you can’t take it away from me.”

“Of course, twerp,” Minho rolls off, settling into the bedside chair and propping his legs up on Jisung’s lap. “Can’t have you dying on us again, can we?”  

“Did you miss me, hyung?” Jisung says, in a much better mood now than before, puffing out his chest.

”Yeah, Seungmin makes a terrible footwarmer,” Minho sighs, before laughing at the crestfallen look on Jisung’s face.

Chan clears his throat from where he’s taken residence between Jisung’s and Changbin’s beds, then, easily drawing the attention in the room to himself.

“We got the go signal for the trafficking case, by the way,” he says, like it’s not that big a deal. “Assignment officially starts next week, or once everyone’s fully recovered.”

“Wasn’t that assignment…for Unit 7?” Changbin asks cautiously.

“JYP handed it over to us, said we might as well take it up since we were the ones who dug up the intel on it,” Chan flashes a bracing smile at them. “Jeongin, get the case files from Youngjae by tomorrow, and everyone, study hard. We start planning next Monday.”

The ward fills with a chorus of groans and grumbles of _yes, hyung_ , and Jisung sips his soup quietly as Minho leans over to start arguing with Changbin.

“Okay there, Sungie?” Chan leans over, then, and Jisung’s eyes flick to the bandage on his shoulder, eyes filled with an apology.

“I won’t mess up again, hyung,” he mumbles. “Promise.”

The leader moves over with a breathy laugh, then, sitting on the bed and pulling Jisung into a side hug, a half-smile on his face. “You know we’re just kidding, right?”

“You guys got hurt because of me,” the younger boy glances around the ward, shivering. “You could’ve died.”

“There’s a lot all of us could learn from that, Sungie. Including me. You’re doing well,” he ruffles the younger boy’s hair. “I’m proud of you.”

Jisung hesitates, then beams.

 

 

 

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> so that's that! this was almost a month in the making thanks to uni :"") and also me trying to get a hold of all 9 of their characters in this universe!! writing felix was extremely fun here ngl, could be the surrender bias speaking?? also i did say i tried to keep it gen but the pairing stuff just CAME THROUGH, i had zero control :"") 
> 
> feedback would be appreciated hehe, and do let me know what kind of stuff (chara-centric?? setting/scenario?? pairing?? crossovers??) you'll like to see in the future! :) 
> 
> comments will be dearly appreciated and loved, they keep this broke(n) author alive
> 
> thanks for reading <3


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